Who told her to stay away from the Black girls, but gave her books to read about Malcolm X and Patrice Lumumba and Steve Biko. Who begged her to suck her lips in to make them thinner. Who insisted that her hair would be straighter if she only brushed it more. Who lamented that her nose was flat because she insisted on pressing on it with the heel of her hand when she was a baby. They are the stories of a mixed girl whose mother was pleased she was light-skinned, but disappointed she was still too dark. Her relatives were names in stories, in places she had never been or didn’t remember. And just when she began to put down roots beside the river, took her away to a land of cold, dark lakes. Who raised her beside a murky river instead of a fragrant sea. Mine are the stories of a child whose mother crossed an ocean to give her a future, but took away her past. Their stories carried the message that someone is always moving. Their stories kept alive the ones who were gone but never gone, who were there but not there. The ancestors sang their stories on sugar cane plantations and in strangers’ kitchens. Stories were hope, stories were salvation, stories were endurance. They began on ships, in the darkness, in chains, in a stinking pit of despair and regret. Whose own grandmother was enslaved, but she never told those stories.īut I tell those stories. This is a grandmother who never wrote a book, never gave an interview. She never wore braids, never wore anklets, never wore nose rings, never wore red lipstick, never wore nail polish, never wore pants. She combed her hair, put on her slip, made sure her wedding ring was on her finger. Who never made a scene, never cried, never complained, because a lady never does. Whose husband’s mistresses came to her front door, came to her back door, flaunted themselves to her children. My stories are the legacy of a grandfather who taught me to fight for my humanity, and a grandmother who taught me to be a lady. From a family who scattered across the globe, from the oceans that took them away and then brought them home again. From a life of too many babies and not enough rice. From two thieves who hung on either side of a saviour and were given paradise, from the woman who sinned no more, from the woman who never sinned, from the dead man who rose, from the risen man who fell. Her stories slipped from the pages of a Bible and the edges of a cross. For my grandmother there was only Africa, but her stories were born in the church. From the revolution he learned in France and Haiti, the rebellion he fought in China, and the resistance he brought from Africa. From his light skin that still was not light enough and her dark skin that was always too dark. My stories come from a grandfather who stood up to colonial authorities, and a grandmother who paid the price. But to see where my stories really begin, let us go back. Zilla Jones on Facebook, Twitter, and InstagramĮvery story starts as a blank page, and in that, there is equality. Her debut novel The World So Wide and short story collection So Much To Tell will be published in 20, details of which will be on social media in October 2023. His writing charms even as it slices like a blade between the ribs: sharp, subtle, and never less than devastating.Zilla Jones, African Canadian from Treaty 1 (Winnipeg), is a 2023 Journey Prize winner, Writers Trust Bronwen Wallace award finalist, and has won numerous short fiction awards, including from the Malahat Review and Prism. “David Nickle is Canada’s answer to Stephen King. “His stories are dark, wildly imaginative, and deeply compassionate-even when they’re laced with righteous anger.” -Nathan Ballingrud, author of Wounds “A story of piano-wire suspense, grotesque horrors, and, above all, visceral insight into the race politics of American horror, and how they are bound up with the American project itself.” -Cory Doctorow, Boing Boing What they discover is science warped by ideology-and an unearthly monster that preys on the faith of its own true believers . . . But its secrets are soon to be unveiled, as Jason Thistledown, the sole survivor of a mysterious plague in Montana, and Andrew Waggoner, a black doctor nearly lynched by the KKK, delve beneath the façade of the utopian mill town. Situated on the edge of the woods and mountains of northern Idaho, the tiny settlement of Eliada is an industrialist’s attempt to create heaven on earth. Nickle blends Little House on the Prairie with distillates of Rosemary’s Baby and The X-Files to create a chilling survival-of-the-fittest story” ( Publishers Weekly). Set in 1911, Eutopia “mixes utopian vision, rustic Americana, and pure creepiness. . . . This debut horror novel by the author of acclaimed short story collection Monstrous Affections “establishes him as a worthy heir to the mantle of Stephen King” ( National Post).
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |